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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707911">Masters of War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusAndromeda/pseuds/VenusAndromeda'>VenusAndromeda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Masters of War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Triple Frontier (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frankie Smut, Frankie being a pilot, Frankie being loving, Frankie gives oral, Frankie's hands, Gratuitous Smut, Love, Love Confessions, OC second person, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Triple Frontier, Unrequited Love, frankie morales</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:22:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusAndromeda/pseuds/VenusAndromeda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandria "Alex" Costa is a war correspondent assigned to Joint Base Balad along side Delta Force and other U.S. military groups. After a tragic loss, she develops a friendship with Santiago "Pope" Garcia and the four other men on his team. She develops a special bond with Francisco "Catfish" Morales. Following years of friendship and an eventual Recce in Colombia, will Alex and Fish finally have a happy ending or will their tragic pasts prevent it?</p><p>Series Song Recommendation: Masters of War by Bob Dylan</p><p>**This is an OC story told from second person in order to provide interaction for the reader.**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s), Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Masters of War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Proud Mary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>-death, blood, injuries<br/>-descriptions of war<br/>-slow burn</p><p>-song recommendation for this chapter: Proud Mary by CCR</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The computer lags as you click the mouse over and over but to no avail, the buffering sign just spinning on the screen. The door slams behind me, and you look over your shoulder, flashing Morales a smile, “Hey.” He nods, tucking his cover into one of the many pockets of his pants. Sighing, you turn back to the screen and give the mouse a few more clicks, hoping to shoot an email back home.</p><p>Morales lets out a grumble, “I fucking hate technology.”</p><p>“Do you want some help?” You laugh and scoot your chair towards him, leaning over to type on the keyboard, your shoulder pressing into his. His body heat adds to your already flushed skin, but you don’t make a move to stop it. “Here,” you point towards the screen, an email draft up and ready, the cursor blinking in the body area.</p><p>“There you are Alex.” You jump, turning towards the door before arranging your face into a smile for your fiancé. “You know better than to hang around the Delta Force guys.” The man next to you scoffs as you get up to leave with Beau without arguing.</p><p>“Bye Morales, don’t fuck that computer up, it’s the only one that works,” he waves at you as you're steered from the room. As soon as you're out of earshot, you pull your elbow out of his grip. “Beau, seriously? You do realize I have to actually talk to people on this base in order to do my job, right?”</p><p>He rubs a hand over his face, sighing, “Whatever. We’re rolling out in fifteen minutes. Get your vest and meet at the caravan.” Looking down at your boots, you wait for him to go on, but the sand kicks up as he walks away. The bunk is dark when you unlock the door since Brandt is still two cities over, covering whatever chaos is happening there. Quickly grabbing a harness holster, you shove your pistol into it before throwing a light jacket on, followed by a press band and cameras. Double and triple lens checks complete, you jog out to catch Beau.</p><p>“Hey,” you grab his arm as he loads the back of the first vehicle, “I love you.” He kisses you on the cheek before motioning to get in the Humvee behind him.</p><p> </p><p>The sun is low on the horizon as the caravan drives back to the base, the sand clouding the sky behind the three vehicles as they crash through the dunes. “Hart, you better keep this a secret. You two, Bishop.” They both laugh as you lower the window and slide out to sit on the door, pointing your camera around to catch photos of the caravan. Inside, the comms buzz but the voice is too covered by static to be understandable. Bishop’s hand comes down hard on your ankle and pulls you inside just as Hart swerves and the vehicle in the front explodes.</p><p>It all happens so fast, you barely have enough to time to process it as you’re thrown into the air, side by side with the guys as the vehicle rolls.</p><p>Your throat burns with the encroaching smoke and the blood that’s pooling in your mouth makes you choke as you try to scream for Beau. There’s a vague sensation of someone grappling for your arm as you struggle to breathe around a sharp pain in your side. The last thing you remember before succumbing to the blackness behind your eyelids is Proud Mary by CCR blasting through the crackling radio.</p><p> </p><p>————————————-</p><p>The lights are blinding when you finally open your eyes, a searing pain ripping up your torso. You feel hands on you, pushing you back down on the bed, but whoever it is isn’t visible yet. Blinking, you reach up and feel stitches near your hair line as the room starts to focus. The medical building was not a new sight to you considering how many times you disobeyed orders and threw yourself into danger for the perfect picture. The nurse next to you finally looks familiar and you groan, your mouth dry from the mixture of blood, smoke and sand from the wreck. “Hey, Joan.”</p><p>“Alex, nice to see you’ve decided to join the land of the living,” she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes as she checks your vitals. Finally, the older woman turns to you and takes your hand, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. “Sergeant Kearnes…” The way she trails off makes your breath catch, a sob stuck in your throat. All you can do is nod and accept her awkward hug as she tries not to hurt your bandaged side. “You may have to stay here for observation for a little while, but I can have anything brought to you or… anything you need, you just tell me. The doctor will be in soon.” You nod against her uniform as she lets you go, the curtain falling shut behind her.</p><p>Within a few minutes, a man comes in who you have yet to meet, but you can’t focus on what he’s saying so you nod along and try to look engaged. You vaguely understand him saying that you took a piece of shrapnel from the rollover in your abdomen, which nicked a lung and that you should probably take it easy. By the time he’s done talking to you, you’re dozing off because of your concussion.</p><p> </p><p>Either the searing pain of ripping a stitch open or the searing pain of your nightmare makes you thrash awake a few hours later. The lights are dimmer, and as you adjust, you’re suddenly aware that the familiar weight of your ring is missing on your left hand. “Fuck,” you whisper, quickly climbing out of bed and stumbling towards the cabinets near it. After throwing open a few of them, you locate your cameras which are scratched, but still working, and a small bag which has your ring. As soon as it’s in your hand, a huge of relief floods through you, but you hesitate to put it on. The simultaneous head rush from standing up too long makes your knees buckles and you mentally prepare for the pain of hitting the ground, but it never comes. A soft grunt makes you look up to see a semi-familiar face.</p><p>“Easy there, Costa.” You grip his shoulder as he goes to pull you to your feet and he grimaces at your touch. Leaning against your bed, you finally look him over and realize he has multiple bandages, one of which you grabbed and caused to turn red.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Your voice is still hushed, careful not to wake up anyone else.</p><p>He looks at you before sticking out his hand, and it takes you a moment to realize he wants you to shake it. Your left hand grips the ring hard enough for it to dig into the skin of your palm, but you firmly grasp his hand with your right. “Just a few holes that needed patching. Took a few too many hits,” he chuckles and drops your hand. “I’m Santiago Garcia by the way, but the guys call me Pope.”</p><p>As you settle onto the bed, you laugh which makes you cough which then makes your lung feel like it’s being ripped open. Pope goes to the edge of the bed and thumbs through your chart, ignoring the offended look on your face. “How’d you know my name, Pope?”</p><p>“Everyone knows your name,” he tuts at something on the page. “How’d you manage to bust a lung?”</p><p>“First, not true. Second, I didn’t bust a lung- let me see that.” He hands it to you and watches as you read over it, the concussion finally giving way to some form of comprehension again. “Fuck, I’ve been out for there days?”</p><p>“Fish told me. He says hi.” Pope bangs around in a cabinet, ignoring your protests, before sitting down on the edge of the bed and peeling off the gauze on his shoulder. He hisses when the alcohol touches the wound before covering it again with a new pad.</p><p>“Who is Fish?”</p><p>“Morales,” he doesn’t bother looking at you, just swings his bare foot as his leg hangs off the bed.</p><p>You pinch the bridge of your nose, your head becoming foggy again, before realizing he means computer Morales.</p><p>“Anyways, he says hi and that he’s sorry… everyone is, but Fish wanted me to tell you.” Before you can respond, Pope gets up to leave but stops at the divider curtain and looks back at you. His eyes are warm and he looks like someone who is full of passion. “Hey, I’m right on the other side of this if you need me. Don’t hesitate.”</p><p>Even with tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, you manage a small smile before the curtain drops behind him. Sleep doesn’t come again that night, but there’s a comfort in your chest that someone is so near you, even if it isn’t someone you know. You twist the ring between your fingers, rubbing at the silver and the big gem on it.</p><p>By the time the morning sun begins to stream through the window behind you, you’ve deduced that you’re glad you won’t have to see the glint of it next time you take photos in the middle of the desert.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I've Just Seen a Face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-Alex and Frankie begin the journey down the road to friendship<br/>-slight angst surrounding the death of her fiancé<br/>-soft Frankie!!!!!</p><p>-song rec for this chapter: I've Just Seen a Face by The Beatles</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joan is nice enough to bring you a book after her morning rounds and it’s a much needed distraction from all the poking and prodding the doctor put you through. The day passes slowly since you don’t sleep much. The doctor reluctantly agreed to lower the dosage on the pain medication, rolling his eyes throughout your arguing before finally signing off on your chart. That was hours ago, and even though your head and side is throbbing, your mind is starting to clear. The reading helps, even though you aren’t really sure what the book is even about. Laughter from next door breaks your focus from the pages, and you look up to see the clock reads 7pm. The guys are probably visiting Pope since the days officially over.</p><p>Your ring catches your eye on the counter and you stare at it for a second before looking away. Shaking your head, you open the book back up, thumbing at the corner of the page. You don’t look up when the curtain slides open, the laughter getting louder, before dissipating again when it’s closed, “Hey, can I.. uh, can I come in?” The voice is gruff, but soft and smooth all at the same time. It’s a conundrum that makes you smile against your will.</p><p>“Hey Morales, you’re already in the room so make yourself at home.”</p><p>“Frankie,” he sighs. When you look up at him, your brows knitting together, he elaborates, “You can call me Frankie.” He smiles sadly down at you, wringing his cover between his tan hands. You can’t help but stare at them, noticing the small scares that litter his knuckles and his thick fingers. Quickly, you shake your head and gesture to the foot of the bed before trying to scoot back. He reaches towards you when you wince, almost reflexively, “Here, hold on.” Frankie sets his hat on the counter next to the ring, hesitating for a second, before stepping towards you. He reaches out a hand and when you grasp it, he helps you sit up before grabbing the pillows behind you and stacking them up. He nods for you to scoot back and doesn’t take his eyes off of you while you do, squeezing his hand in the process and trying to not to gasp at the pain in your side. When you’re settled, he loosens his grip and moves towards the edge of bed, sinking down to sit at your feet. He leans so that his body is angled towards you. You’re both silent for a second before, “I wanted to say I’m sorry about Sergeant Kearnes…”</p><p>You stiffen for a second, glancing at the ring and you see his gaze follows yours. Before answering him you close the book, dog earring your page, and throw it onto the counter as best you can. “Thank you.” It comes out shorter than you expected it to and you blanch, “I’m sorry. I-“</p><p>“You don’t need to apologize, Costa,” he runs his hand over his short hair, fidgeting because he doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Alex.” Frankie lifts his head to look at you, his brown eyes searching your face and you find yourself smiling for the second time since he’d entered the room. “Why does Pope call you Fish?”</p><p>He chuckles, and it’s a sound unlike anything you’d ever heard. It’s a sound you could get used to hearing. Guilt trickles through you and you look over at the ring again, and he notices it, his chuckle dissipating. “We all have call signs. Well, except Benny,” Frankie looks towards the curtain, the men’s voices low on the other side. “Pope is the most faithful of the group… not to women, maybe. But to us. We’re a family. He has hope, so much hope. The guy’s insane sometimes, drives us crazy. Tom ‘Redfly’ Miller is the head of the team. He’s the oldest, too and the wisest. He’s pretty serious but he’s a good guy, his intuition has gotten us out of some messed up shit.” Frankie looks at you, only to find you watching him intently and he smirks, his cheeks becoming pink. “William ‘Ironhead’ Miller, he’s a fucking soldier if I’ve ever seen one. I’ve never met anyone more proud to be serving. Benny is his little brother. They both signed up after 9/11. Somehow we all ended up on Delta Force and now we’re a family.”</p><p>You tsk, “You still didn’t tell me why they call you Fish.” He blushes again, rubbing his hand over his hair before clasping them together in his lap. His nervousness makes you laugh playfully, “Tell me!”</p><p>“Whiskers,” he chuckles again and it’s your turn to blush. "When we were training together, I kept getting counseled because my facial hair grows back too quickly.”</p><p>“No,” you breath out with a laugh. The movement makes your side prickle with pain and you grasp it, but motion for him to go on.</p><p>“I’m serious! I’d fucking shave at 0500 and then by noon it would be growing back. The whole base knew it and so someone made a joke that I had whiskers like a fucking catfish and, well.”</p><p>“Your call sign is Catfish?!” You snort and he blushes harder, but the minute he sees you whimper in pain he reaches towards you. His fingertips come to rest on your wrist as you grasp your ribs, your breathing labored from laughing. For some reason, you don’t shrug away from his touch.</p><p>Frankie glances down at his hand on yours before quickly pulling away. “I’m sorry, Alex” he stammers. You shake your head, glancing toward the ring again. He studies you as you look at it, watches as you wipe a few tears away and then shrug. “Hey,” his voice is soft and you look back at him, this time your grey eyes search his face, looking for any sign of malice or bad motives. When you find none, you make eye contact, his brown eyes soft in the dim light. “Maybe this is overstepping, but do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>The curtain slides open just then, and Pope sticks his head through, glancing between the two of you while Frankie looks startled and embarrassed all at the same time. “The guys are heading back to the barracks. Are you staying here, Fish?” Pope doesn’t miss the way his best friend looks towards you, asking for permission or for an order to leave, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way you subtly nod towards Frankie.</p><p>He clears his throat, glancing back at Pope, “I’m going to stay a bit longer.” The man nods before closing the curtain, and a minute later there’s scuffling and laughing next door. Frankies shakes his head, “That’s probably Benny.”</p><p>A door closes and the room quiets down again. Soon after, Pope’s overhead light turns off and the only lights that are on are the dim ones on your side and the reading light Joan clipped to your I.V. stand. You silently study each other for a moment, the faint blush creeping back onto Frankie’s cheeks. When you finally speak, your voice comes out stronger than you expect it to, “Beau was complicated.”</p><p>He waits for you to go on, but when you don’t elaborate he knits his eyebrows together, “How so?”</p><p>You sigh, picking at a loose thread on the blanket covering your legs and suddenly aware that all you have on is a flimsy gown. “We met when we were really young, in college before he enlisted. I was going to school for journalism and I never thought I’d land in the Middle East. It was never vey serious, but by the time we graduated, we’d been on and off for a few years so we decided to move in together. It was rough, he wasn’t faithful through it, and I decided to go back for a Masters. Right when I was about to graduate, he came home with the news he enlisted and I was livid. Beau went to basic, and I got a job as a journalist for a huge news station… When I got the offer to come overseas and photograph the war, I wanted to turn it down, but he claimed it would be good for us. So I did, I packed everything up and threw it in storage. About a year in, he proposed on the base we were at so that we wouldn’t have to split up again and then we got moved here. We’d only been engaged a couple months, and it’s not like we had the wedding planned. Our life is here. Well, he wanted it to be.”</p><p>Frankie sighs, searching your face for the inevitable tears, but none come, “Do you love him?”</p><p>You look up at him, sadly before whispering, “I used to. Am I bad person for that?”</p><p>“No, Alex.”</p><p>The two of you sit in silence for awhile before Frankie leaves, and by that time you’re so exhausted you don’t realize he leaves his cover next to the ring.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, the doctor discharges you after taking out the stitches in your scalp and checking the ones in your side. Your concussion has pretty much healed, but your head still aches if you focus on something for too long. As you’re gathering your belongings and about to pull on the medical sweatpants, you hear someone clear their throat on the other side of the curtain. Pope’s getting the last round of x-rays to make sure he’s cleared, so you call out and ask who it is.</p><p>“It’s me.. uh, it’s Frankie.” Your heart leaps a little and you try to calm your nerves before calling back to him to tell him he can come in. He looks shy in the bright light as he enters and sets down a pile of clothes on the counter, letting the boots he’s holding drop to the floor. “Um, Brandt is back from her post and I figured you might want clean clothes…” he trails off, wringing his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed.</p><p>“Thank you,” you smile at him before taking the pile and going into yours and Pope’s shared bathroom to change. Your stitches tug when you pull the shirt over your head and you grimace, trying to keep your breathing even for your lung’s sake. Looking in the mirror, you realize how exhausted you look and you can’t wait to shower back at the barracks. You pull your jeans before splashing water onto your short hair, trying to tame it. Frankie looks up when you come back in the room, and you think you see his eyes shine a little but he quickly looks away while you sit down next to him to pull on your boots.</p><p>“The team has a meeting later, but after that we were going to go to dinner at the mess and then that movie they’re showing in the warehouse. Figure there’s nothing better to do.”</p><p>You look over at him as you finish lacing your boots, arching a brow at him, “Catfish, are you asking me to come?” He startles and looks down at you, a blush creeping across his cheeks.</p><p>“I-I don’t want to be disrespectful, I just-“</p><p>“Yes, I’ll come with you,” your smile makes his blush deepen, his own smile playing at his lips. He stands up to his full height, waiting for you to finish, before grabbing his cover from the counter.</p><p>“Here,” he takes the ring gently and holds it out to you, expecting some sort of backlash, but you silently take it and tuck into your jeans pocket as you stand up. Against your protests, he picks up the bag with your cameras and salvaged clothing before holding the curtain open for you. The main door to the room is open and you blanche at the strong lights in the hallway. The hospital bustles around the two of you as you make your way to the entrance. He tugs his cover on before pushing the door open.</p><p>The heat from outside forces its way through the doors before you even step out into the blazing sun. The base is calm. The Beatles pours out of a radio near a handful of soldiers playing basketball on the make shift court which makes you smile, “Beau would be whining about getting his ass kicked out there.” You laugh, holding a hand to your brow, trying to block some of the light.</p><p>Frankie studies you before making his way towards the barracks and you fall into step beside him. He walks slow for your sake, afraid of making the wound in your side or your lung ache. “Are you okay?”</p><p>You glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, “Honestly?” He nods down at you, his cover blocking the sun from his eyes and you can’t help but feel slightly disappointed you can’t seem him in the sun fully. “I’m better than I have been in awhile. I miss him, but I miss the Beau I knew years ago. I just wish it wasn’t like this.”</p><p>The song grows louder while you both walk past, and you hum the lyrics, <em>Had it been another day I might have looked the other way…</em></p>
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